Boromir's Fractured Fairytales
by amandalynwood
Summary: Boromir didn't die. Where did he end up when he went over the falls? He finds himself in a strange new place and meets strange new characters... come along for the journey, for example a version of Snow White with attention deficit disorder. LEMONS...
1. Snow White chapter 1

**Author's Note:**_ There are actually three authors on this story so far and one waiting in the wings. Myself of course, Sable899, Blue Jay, and Kimmy whose contribution will or should follow mine. I will indicate the author under each chapter heading. I have their full consent to post this here. We are all members at a Sean Bean fansite __(where I post under the name of Viggomama) __So fair warning that Boromir will be speaking with a **"Sean Bean from Sheffield England accent."**_

_Each contribution is a different part of the same continuing story. Based on the premise that Boromir did not really die, and tells where he ended up when he went over the falls. Will he ever make it back home to Gondor? All fairy tales and nursery rhyme characters are fair game in this story  
_

_Disclaimer: The authors do not know Boromir or any other recognizable names. All others are purely figments of our imaginations and any resemblances to persons living or dead are purely coincidental. We make no claims about them, their sexuality or their private lives. We mean them no disrespect. We wrote this for fun, not for profit._

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**BOROMIR'S FRACTURED FAIRYTALES**

**by (in order of writing)  
**

**Sable899**

**Blue Jay**

**amandalynwood**

**Kimmy**

**-------------------------------- **

**Book 1: SNOW WHITE**

**Chapter One **

**by Sable899**

_Cold…wet…so tired…hurts…_

Boromir could feel the warmth of a noonday sun on his back, but a breeze, laden with the tang of the sea, kept dancing over him to bring on a wrack of shivers. He tried to move but every muscle in his body screamed back at him, refusing to do his bidding. Opening his eyes broke a crust of dried salt that stung his chapped skin. He quickly closed them again, only to ever so slowly open them. As he blinked to focus, he raised his head from the coarse sand of the beach where he laid belly down, half in and half out of the gentle surf.

"Blood-eh 'ell!" he said aloud to no one but himself, "I thought I were dead!"

Bracing his soggy gloved hands on the wet sand, he slowly pushed himself up until he could roll over to sit with his knees bent, feet at the water's edge. He ran his hands thru his long wet hair, pushing it out of his face. Slowly, he looked himself over, wondering if he was whole and truly alive only to find three puncture wounds thru his clothing and into his chest. No pain, no blood marked the circular wounds. A flood of images came over him at dizzying speed.

_Orcs! Arrows! Aragorn! Why are you crying? The little ones! They took the little ones! Why did you cast me adrift? Can't you see I'm just resting? Galadriel gave me a gift too, more precious than the visions. The weapons of evil cannot kill me! I'm alive, Aragorn! Can't you see? I'm alive!_

The visions fled as quickly as they had arrived, but Boromir knew that Aragorn didn't know, hadn't known that Boromir still lived. And now, he was alone on a strange shore where the ocean tides had cast him.

"Well, you daft git, best get your arse moving before you catch a fever!" he said aloud again and dragged himself to his feet. He stood still for a moment while his lightheadedness dissipated and he could get his bearings.

The shore he stood on stretched straight off into the horizon in both directions and was wide enough to march a column of troops along. Off in the distance, he could make out at least half a dozen small figures scavenging along the edge of the dunes that separated the beach from a fertile forest. They had several small donkeys with them that appeared to be laden with an assortment of driftwood and beach salvage. The opposite direction offered nothing but empty shoreline. It was obvious to Boromir which direction he should head off in. Even if they could offer no food or shelter, at least they might be able to tell him where he was and how many days he had been gone from his friends in Middle Earth.

By the time he came within hailing distance of the group, he had come to the conclusion that he had somehow ended up on the shore of the Hobbit lands, for the seven men he approached were of similar stature, perhaps a bit shorter. But, no furry feet; they all wore heavy work boots.

"Ahhhh, kind Hobbits, I am pleased at my great fortune! Surely you can help me find my way back to the land of men? I am Boromir, Captain of Gondor, High Warden of the White Tower, and Son of Denethor."

All seven of the men stopped in their tracks, turned towards the human come into their midst, and growled with menace in their eyes. "Hobbits? Do we look like Hobbits?" exclaimed all seven in unison as they all pulled short swords from sheaths.

"I beg you to forgive me if I am wrong to name you so, please correct me, for surely you appear as Hobbits to a lowly human from Middle Earth," Boromir spoke humbly and swept his arms open to show he was unarmed.

"You see? That daft girl and her making us all shave! Proper dwarves never shave!" exclaimed a dwarf with a huge nose and a sour expression. "Hobbits indeed! Harrumph!"

"Well we didn't hear you complain at the time, Grumpy!" countered another who suddenly sneezed violently.

"We're dwarves," explained a jolly-looking fat dwarf, "We may not look like it, but I assure you, we are all dwarves."

"Duhhhhhh, we are?" asked a dwarf with a wide, friendly face.

"Oh shut up, Dopey!" interrupted another, followed by a huge yawn, "how many times do we have to remind you what we are?"

"What on earth is a place doing in a human like this? Err, um, err…Strike that…What on earth is a human doing in a place like this?" asked the oldest-looking of the dwarves, pulling his spectacles down onto the tip of his nose. He seemed to be the leader as the rest all shuffled quickly around him, following his example of sheathing their short swords. One in particular did his best to hide behind him, sneaking peeks as if Boromir were some great monster.

Boromir quickly provided the dwarves with the short story of what he thought had happened and his pressing need to return to Gondor. The dwarves became all excited to hear the news of Middle Earth and promised to assist him however they could in exchange for a promise to tell them in greater detail the story of the Fellowship and how Boromir had come to be separated from his comrades.

The dwarves collected their donkeys and prepared to lead Boromir to their home a short ways into the lush green forest. Watching them prepare, Boromir spotted his shield and his sword belt tied up with some driftwood and planks from a wrecked boat.

"My sword! My shield! You found them!" Boromir rushed to the donkey and began to untie the ropes binding his belongings. He suddenly stopped when the dwarf called Grumpy pulled his sword again and smacked Boromir's hands with the flat of the blade.

"Finders Keepers!" the sour-looking dwarf announced.

Still a bit unsteady on his feet and knowing he was dependent on these dwarves for assistance, Boromir resisted the urge to stand his ground and fight for what was his.

"We have rules around here concerning the salvage from the sea," explained Doc, the bespectacled lead dwarf. "If you want your things, you will have to bargain for them."

"Kind dwarves, as you can see, I am abandoned here on your shores with only the clothes on my back, yet surely you can tell that I am a warrior," Boromir poured on his illuminating smile and all the charm he could muster under the circumstances. They might all be diminutive dwarves, but there were seven of them, all armed with short swords, while he was but one man, weakened, cold, wet and weaponless. "A warrior would never abandon his weapons and I swear by all that is sacred, these are my weapons; my sword and my shield. I have nothing to barter with. Pray tell how we can reach an agreement that will restore my weapons to me?"

The dwarves all gathered into a huddle, out of earshot of Boromir. He watched as they bent heads together in furious discussion. Occasionally one would stand up straight and look at Boromir as if inspecting him. Finally, they broke apart and forming into a wedge behind Doc, approached him.

"You can have your belongings in exchange for a sojourn of seven days at our house in the forest, as our guest, of course," offered Doc, with the other dwarves nodding in agreement.

"Three days," Boromir countered. He desperately wanted to begin his journey back to Middle Earth and felt three days would be a perfect amount of time to rest and recuperate.

"Six days," countered Doc and all nodded in agreement.

"Four days," again, Boromir counter-offered, adopting a stern look.

"Five days, and not an hour less!" came Doc's final-sounding offer.

With no other options that didn't include the use of force, Boromir accepted their offer with handshakes all around. Within minutes, a happy band of seven dwarves, four donkeys and one human were on the march along a forest track. After the first few yards, Happy, the fattest of the dwarves, struck up a song that soon had them all stepping out in time: "_Heigh ho…, heigh ho…, its off to work we go…"_

Boromir found them all quite endearing and couldn't help falling into step, quickly picking up on the chorus of the marching song.


	2. Snow White chapter 2

**Book 1: SNOW WHITE**

**Chapter Two **

_**by Sable899**_

Her skin was white as snow, her lips as red as blood, her hair as black as ebony, and she was called Snow White. Boromir was speechless before her. He had never seen such perfect beauty and truly believed he would never see another half so fair in his lifetime. And then, she spoke…

"Boromir…that's a wonderful name for a prince…where is your horse…you should have a white horse...all princes have white horses…you do smell like a horse…where is it then…did you leave it behind the house…and where is your crown…all princes have a crown…you ARE a prince aren't you…did somebody step in donkey shit…don't tell me you're not a prince…oh please tell me you ARE a prince…

"I've been waiting sooo long…years and years… you can't imagine how long I've waited…and I reallly dooo need a real prince to come and take me away from all this...I reallly want to get back to Civilization…have some good conversation…good company…have some decent clothes…real silk of course…and nice jewelry…one of those little tiara's would be nice..."

(wrinkling her nose)"…what is that horrid smell…you know, I think you need a bath…

"and of course my gowns have to be silk…anything else chafes…and my skin is so sensitive even the shortest beard gives me trouble…you really should shave while you're having that bath…maybe I can give you a haircut later…

"how long have you been in those woods…you smell like it's been years…and nice slippers…I saw some very nice gold slippers once...just the thing to go with silk gowns…there aren't many men that look good with long hair…short hair is really much nicer…where did I leave those scissors…and you need something to clean those filthy fingernails…I so like nice nails…you do have beautiful hands though…you should wash them…"

Boromir was thankful to see her suddenly hustle off, still talking away in her high-pitched little girl voice, saying something about lavender salts and seeing to his bath. He was just a bit dazed and his ears were ringing and he realized that he hadn't gotten so much as a single word in edgewise.

"Is she always like that?" Boromir asked when he could no longer hear her.

"Like what?" all seven asked in unison.

"Daft," Boromir wondered.

"Oh, no, she's not daft, well, maybe a little," began Doc, "She's always been like that, has been since we found her when she was seven years old."

"She used to be worse," continued Sneezy, "but she seems to have mellowed with time.

"Unless she gets really excited," added Dopey, "Oh my! She must be excited over you!"

"What's daft about her is all the insistence on cleanliness and shaving," added Grumpy, "And remember how she used to stand in front of that bloody mirror all the time? "

"Mirror, mirror…who's the fairest…" chirped in Bashful, "she got that from her evil stepmother, but our mirror never answered. She's over that now, but she still goes on about the damnedest things, like that gamekeeper who took her into the wood."

"Oh, yes! Never, ever say the word 'tree' or 'wood' or you'll send her right off into a swoon," piped in the nearly comatose Sleepy.

"And then there's how she's always going on about how we dwarves should try to look more like bloody princes," growled Grumpy, "and delve ever deeper for gold and gems until one of us says the word 'tree' so she'll go off again about that gamekeeper and leave us well enough alone."

"How do you all stand it?" Boromir wondered, "I would think you'd all be gone daft listening to that by now."

"She thinks we're all hard of hearing," giggled Happy, "thinks we went near deaf working in the mines of Moria, centuries ago."

"We just pretend we can't hear her," chuckled Happy, "It's all that keeps us from truly going deaf."

"And daft," added Grumpy.

"Ohhhhhhh Boromirrrrrrrrrr!" called Snow White from somewhere off in the house, "Time for your bath!"

"Well, if you want supper and a clean bed," warned Sleepy, "then best to just do as she says."

"I'll not cut my hair! Nor will I shave my beard!" protested Boromir.

"You'll have to fight that battle yourself, then," Doc advised, "and good luck to you."

*****

_Lavender! A warrior of Gondor ain't supposed to smell like a blood-eh flower! _The washing room was pleasantly empty of Snow White when Boromir disrobed and climbed into the steaming copper tub. Taking Sleepy's advice to just do as she said, he decided to just grin and bear it. _At least it ain't blood-eh roses!_

As he soaked in the soothing hot water, he could feel his aches and pains wash away with all the dirt and grime. He had found the dwarves good company and on their march back to the house as they told him the tale of how they had been born and raised in Moria and had worked the mines until the dark days of Sauron forced them to flee. An ocean voyage, intended to take them into the West with a tribe of Elves, had encountered a storm. The ship foundered on the very same shore where Boromir had chanced to find them. With no resources to go anywhere else, they settled down nearby. They found the area had an abundant supply of rubies, sapphires, opals, and amethysts for anyone who knew how to mine for them properly.

They prospered as the years went by and one day they found this half-starved orphan girl had wandered into their house and had made herself right at home. She was an odd little thing, but quickly won their hearts. Snow White grew into a beautiful woman, and even though she had a few quirks about her, they were willing to put up with them because she baked and cooked like a master chef, kept an immaculate house, tended them when sick and injured, sewed and laundered their clothes and sang like an angel.

_Too bad she's daft. She's a right smart beau-teh. But then, how could she be normal having lived with seven ancient dwarves for such a long time. They make her sound so blood-eh perfect, wonder how perfect she would be without all them clothes on…lovely skin…all that thick black hair…luscious red lips…_

The door to the washing room banged open and a shrill voice startled him from his reverie. Jumping up, he sloshed water all over the floor, looking for his sword when he realized it was only Snow White. Noticing his nethers were involuntarily warming, he attempted to cover himself, losing his balance in the slippery copper tub. He slid back down into the water with a great whoosh, water splashing everywhere. She had brought in towels and a robe and seemed to be continuing the same conversation with herself that she had begun earlier.

"Those filthy clothes just have to be washed before you can put them on again…, I simply cannot tolerate filthy clothes at the dinner table…, oh my but these boots are heavy…, they smell funny…, you must have strong legs…, Boromir, be careful, all that water on the floor…"

Before he could object, she had tossed all of his clothes into a big tub of soapy water, saying something about them needing a good soak, and had taken up a scrub brush and was applying lavender-scented soap to it.

"Such a dirty boy…, you do need a good wash…, here, let me help you…, what's this here on your back…, my you do have strong shoulders…, must be all that sword fighting you do…, your hair is a bit smelly…, I do think it's a bit too long if you ask me…, pity I can't find those scissors…, I'll have a look later…, and that beard…no, no, no…that won't do…, you know there will be lice in there probably…"

"Lice only live in clean hair…, a good smoky fire will get rid of lice…" Boromir attempted to get in edgewise, but she just kept on chattering away, oblivious to him even having a voice.

"And your nails need clipping…, now that's something you will have to do yourself…, I'm not going to do that…, no, no, no… not even for a prince…, and you're not even that…, which scent do you like best… violets, lavender or primrose…, I like lavender best…, I have all kinds of nice bath salts…, they'll make you smell like a king…, all the dwarves like them very much…, don't you think they smell nice…"

"Can't say as I noticed…," again, Boromir attempted to be heard, and again, she just went right on as if he were completely mute, reducing him to a mumble, "Blood-eh 'ell…"

"What was that, Boromir…, you must speak up…, can't understand you when you mumble so…, they have such lovely skin…, that's because they use my moisturizer…, would you like that too…, your skin doesn't look very good…, you're a very spotty boy…"

"That's why I've got a beard…" Boromir mumbled in response, to no avail.

"Your hair would look much better if it was shorter…, and maybe a bit curly…, we must do something about that…, I think curly is so much more princely…, it helps keep the crown from slipping off…, I do have some really nice shampoo…, lavender…"

Boromir was about to go deaf from her incessant chatter in her high-pitched voice. It was one thing to tune her out when she was bustling about the room, but at the moment, she was busy scrubbing his back and only inches from his ears.

_What in Middle Earth will make her shut up!_

"There, your back is all nice and scrubbed…, your front must be as bad…, such lovely skin you have for a man…, and you probably never have to do anything to keep it that way…, keeping my skin soft is a lot of work…, stand up now…, I do declare you haven't bathed in ages…, such grime ground right in…, what with washing clothes and baking bread and cleaning the house…, my hands get so chapped…, almond oil and paraffin…, it's the only thing that helps…"

"I can't stand up in front of you!" Boromir loudly objected, knowing full well that his nethers had gotten warmer and warmer as she had scrubbed her way down to the crack of his arse, "and I can blood-eh well scrub me own self!"

"Oh Boromir, don't argue now…, such a dirty boy…, men just don't know how to properly scrub…, and they never use enough soap…, ooops, now see, you've made me drop the soap…, where did it go…?"

Boromir's brows knitted as he felt her hand brushing his side, reaching towards the bottom of the tub in search of the elusive chunk of soap, worried that she would reach around into his lap and encounter his nethers now standing fully at attention.

"Oh dear…, where did it go…, so slippery don't you think…, can you feel it somewhere..., Boromir, you smell really nice now…, do you think it has slid round to the front… lift your legs a bit…, I can't seem to reach so far down…, I still think you need a good shave…, I've simply got to find those scissors…, Oh!..I think I've got it… no, no, that's not it…, no idea what that was…"

Boromir nearly jumped out of the bath as he felt her hand briefly grab hold of one of his family jewels.

"I still can't find it…, you sure you haven't got it…, you're not hiding it from me are you…, men can be so silly sometimes…"

"I'LL FIND IT!" Boromir, eyes going crossed, nearly roared as she firmly took his dagger in her hand, but once her fist wrapped around it, she seemed reluctant to let it go.

And suddenly, she stopped chattering…


	3. Snow White Chapter 3

**~SNOW WHITE~**

**Chapter Three**

_**By Sable899**_

Quickly rising from the water, Boromir's dagger was suddenly at eye level with the now-silent Snow White. Because her hand was still firmly wrapped around it, he was at a loss over what to do. Confused over his situation, he was reluctant to pull away on the one hand because he was afraid she wouldn't let go and thereby cause him great injury while on the other hand, he was reluctant to pull away because it felt so good. Before he could decide what to do, she decided for him when she leaned forward and her tongue tentatively connected with his engorged length as her other hand softly massaged his jewels.

The only sound he heard her make was a soft _mmmmm_ which suited him fine as he watched her lips move up and down the length of his unsheathed weapon. He trembled beneath the caress of her expert tongue as a mimicking _mmmmm_ came from deep in his chest . To see his own length came as no surprise; he had never had any complaints in that department. But even though he was quite practiced at fumbling in darkened chambers with tavern wenches, he had never had an opportunity to watch himself manipulated with such expertise in the full light of day. When he saw his thickness as it filled her alabaster hand he understood why his compatriots complained that any woman who gave her favors to Boromir was forever ruined for other men.

Her mouth and hands worked in perfect unison; she sucked like she was starved, like he was the only man left on earth. Boromir closed his eyes, squirming in ecstasy, his hands kneading her rich, black hair. Still soapy and wet from his interrupted bath, her hands slid easily over and around his quickening jewels, carefully squeezing. Then she eased her thumb along his warm crotch until she came to the start of his ass. She began to press upward and massage in a gentle circle. The effect was invigorating and immediate. His eruption pulsed thickly inside her mouth and in spite of the fact that she was clutching the base of his shaft his dagger continued to spurt again and again.

Boromir hadn't even caught his breath before she was off and chattering again. He stood naked in amazement as she went about shaking out a big fluffy towel and putting down a rag rug for him to step out of the tub onto.

"That was lovely…why, Boromir," Snow White positively purred with pleasure now. "When I laid eyes on you for the first time, I knew you were something really special…but you're even more special than I thought...don't you have a wife where ever you come from…or an intended even…"

"Soldiers don't need wives…" Boromir tried to answer her, but his words seemed to go right past her.

"Oh my…you'll catch your death of cold…and you're not even all clean yet…must rinse that soap off…it will itch if you don't rinse well…don't just stand there…dinner will be soon…the robe will be a snug fit, but its all there is till your clothes are clean and dry…it will just have to do…"

"It's a blood-eh woman's robe!" He protested, but it fell on deaf ears as she was already off on her ramblings.

"Here's a nice fluffy towel for you…do be careful with the water...who would have thought that there could be so much water in one bath...but you are such a big man…big men always make a mess in the bath…we'll have to sew up those holes in your body…doesn't do to go about with holes in your body…you know, having met you, I might not really need a prince...princes are rather overrated anyway…who needs a prissy prince when you can have a steward of Gondor all the time…don't you agree…"

Dinner was laid out on a big trestle table in front of the fireplace in the central room of the house by the time Boromir finished his bath. Thankfully, Snow White had gone off to see to hanging his laundered clothes to dry and to attend to the rest of the food, leaving him with both his hair and his beard intact, well-brushed, but intact. Dressed in the robe she had provided, he wasn't certain how he should go about sitting down on one of the long benches. The robe was one of hers and barely covered his nethers. At least a roaring fire had warmed the room and only the dwarves were present as he flashed both his bum and his jewels while attempting to sit with a modicum of modesty.

The food was plentiful and delicious with a variety of dishes and an endless supply of fine ale. Snow White began the meal with her usual chatter, going on about all sorts of nonsense and no one bothered to interrupt her. Doc, sitting next to her, seemed to pay particular attention to keeping her goblet of dark red wine continuously filled.

The more she ate, the more she drank and the more she drank the less she chattered until by the time Happy served a rich hazelnut torte for dessert, she finally stopped chattering altogether. Shortly after, her head fell back onto the top edge of her chair. The dwarves all fell silent, seemingly waiting for something.

Several long minutes passed before she began to softly snore. That was the signal for the dwarves to go into a well-practiced routine. They formed up to lift her out of her chair and carried her off to her bed. The whole process went off without a hitch and in no time she was left in her chemise and tucked in her bed, seemingly dead to the world. Boromir observed the whole process with great curiosity.

"Does that happen often?" Boromir asked, once the table had been cleared and washing up completed and the dwarves had all settled in front of the fire with clay pipes and tankards of the fine ale.

"Every night," answered Grumpy, "it's the only way we ever get any peace and quiet around here."

"Yes, it's the wine you see," contributed Doc, "we grow the Valerian root ourselves. Call it our 'special ingredient'. Just a tiny bit. She's never noticed it at all."

"By morning she never remembers having fallen asleep at the dinner table," Happy giggled, offering Boromir a filled pipe.

Boromir was starting to feel the effects of the long day and the ordeal that his body had apparently gone through before he woke on the beach. He stretched his long bare legs to warm his feet before the fire and took a long drag on the pipe, comfortable with his ale, a full belly, a warm fire and good company. For the first time since departing Lothlorien months ago, he actually felt safe; no Orcs were chasing him, no Nazgul hunting him. Briefly, he paused on the thought that he couldn't stay long, that he must get on with the journey back to Middle Earth.

"Uhhhh, Boromir…" Sneezy attempted to speak but began a fit of sneezing.

"Boromir! You're on fire!" Doc jumped up, alarmed to see smoke seeping out of Boromir's robe.

"Blood-eh 'ell!" Boromir jumped up and pulled open the top of the robe to find tobacco smoke seeping out of the three holes left by the Orc arrows.

"Blood-eh 'ell, indeed!" agreed all of the dwarves in unison as they crowded around to witness the oddity.

"Hmmmm…we'll have to do something about plugging those in the morning," Happy remarked without a trace of alarm, "a bit of salt dough, perhaps."

"Yes, salt dough will dry hard as a rock," the reticent Bashful piped in.

"Can't have you wandering about with holes in your chest, now can we?" confirmed Grumpy.

"Perhaps I'll just call it a day and say good night to you kind fellows," Boromir decided with that particular odd turn of events, it was time for him to retire for some much-needed sleep, "where am I to sleep this night?"

"There's only one bed big enough for a human," Doc assured him, "You will have to share with Snow White."

Boromir started to protest, but the dwarves would have none of it. Besides, they reasoned, she wouldn't even know he was there until she awoke in the morning. And she would be mortified to think that he had slept on the floor. They would never hear the end of it. It was one thing to listen to her usual nonsense chatter, but to listen to her when her ire was up was not acceptable when a simple solution existed. No, he simply must take up half of her big bed.

As quietly as he could, Boromir inched his way across the floor of the darkened room towards the big bed against the wall opposite the door. The last thing he wanted to do was to wake her, afraid if he did that he would be stuck listening to that high shrill voice drone on and on about all sorts of nonsense until morning. Moving to the empty side of the bed, he peeled the constricting robe off his shoulders, down his arms and dropped it in a heap at his feet. Ever so slowly, he lowered his naked body into the feather mattress without making a sound. He turned his back on the soundly-sleeping Snow White, pulled the duvet up and quickly dozed off.

Boromir's eyes flashed open just as the sky began turning the orange flame colour just before the sun rises. He wasn't sure what was actually happening behind his back, but he was certain that his nethers were being roused from a sound slumber in a highly pleasurable way and he quickly decided he'd rather not interrupt it.

Snow White's hands stroked thru his hair as her eager lips planted kisses up and down his neck, biting and sucking and licking. The same soft _mmmmm_ sound came from her throat like the purr of a kitten like she had done when she tended him in the bath. A hand moved across the tight muscles of his back and wandered around to stroke the downy hair lightly covering his chest while her tongue traced the rim of his ear, her breath so hot that it burned all the way down to his groin.

His dagger hardening and shifting, he felt the caress of her full breasts against his back and he hardened even more. A hand began to slip towards his nethers, searching for the jewels that throbbed below. He grabbed for her hand, held it in place while he turned himself onto his back, turning his head to focus on bright blue eyes intent on a mission. Half against his side, half draped over him, her breasts pressed urgently, her bright red lips beckoned. On the first kiss her full lips were warm and lush, tasting faintly of wine. The second kiss was even better, deeper. Her tongue was small and quick and pointed and served to stoke the fire burning in his loins.

With every plunge of her tongue, he felt her body shudder, her hand grow more urgent on his nethers until, able to bear the wait no longer, he pulled her fully on top of him. His dagger pushed thru her thighs, spreading them to either side of his hips, to plunder her dripping wet womanhood. He gripped her porcelain buttocks and lowered her gently as she impaled herself, beyond the silky tip of his heated blade, onto the stretching width of him. She met it eagerly and her abundant fluids helped him slide easily inside.

Softly grunting, Boromir thrust into her and she gasped at the power of his strokes. Her purring grew louder, spurring him on to thrust harder and faster. He pulled her forward, meeting her halfway, to ravish the flawless flesh of her firm, round breasts. He suckled firmly on one while his long slender fingers rolled the other until her purring ceased, to be replaced with groans and gasps. He could feel her inner muscles clutching at him, coaxing greater effort from him to thrust upwards, driving into her.

At last, with a growl, his hips bucked, pounding into her with an explosive burst, melting into a continuous release. He gripped her tightly as a groan emanating from the depths of her belly signaled her own cascading dissolve; with every contraction of her inner muscles, his buttocks flexed in response.

They lay glued together in slick perspiration while his rigid branch withered and retreated. Boromir's gasps grew steadily regular until his lungs once more felt satisfied they were getting enough air. But Snow White kept on gasping, biting back moans. Her fingernails dug deep into his shoulders. It was obvious; she wanted sex, she wanted it hard, wanted it still.

She ground against him, skillfully coaxing his dagger from its sheath. She compressed her muscles around him to let him know she would not be refused. The fire inside his jewels once more began to build. It had been many months since he had tumbled with a tavern wench and they held a goodly reserve. The morning sun had risen, pouring a golden glow through the lace-curtained windows. Snow White's body flushed red as the heat of wanton arousal washed over her. Her nipples again hardened into pebbles, swelling to double their size.

He had to take those teasing swollen nubs into his mouth. Every nip, every swirl of his tongue on their tender flesh sent more fuel into the fire in Snow White's belly. A throbbing in her pleasure center dispelled her gentleness. She increased pressure against his nethers, forcing him to further harden until he could be still no longer. Slick, velvety and wet from one coupling, the second was preceded by one word from her: More. Not a request, not a comment, but a demand. Boromir knew that refusal wasn't an option, besides, she had him primed and ready to give her what she wanted, and that, he quickly resolved to do.

Suddenly, she pulled away from him, rising to her knees. He gasped as he slid unwillingly from her comfort hole. His dismay, however, was short lived when in one swift movement she engulfed his bulk inside her. She fell against him, pressing her mouth against his shoulder, biting down to muffle a scream. He heard a hissed 'yesssss' near his ear as he pushed upwards, his dagger burying in to the limit. He stretched her, his weapon plunging so deep as if to penetrate her belly. He held her there until her shuddering ceased.

She dared to move, wrapping her legs around his waist, and he felt himself shift inside her. He held her by the hips, each upward stroke a short, sharp thrust. She jolted with each rising incursion with wild abandon. He urged her legs higher about his back and plunged deeper, thinking it impossible to cram any more of himself into her, but the change in angle did it, piercing her and stretching her even deeper. Low groans emanated from his throat, his head bowed in concentration, sweat gleamed on his brow.

Time stood still as he stroked upwards, again and again and again. She jerked, her body shuddering as it clamped down around his blade, writing to get every last moment of climax from him. He groaned low and stiffened, his buttocks flexing in rapid bursts. Truly spent, he thought to disengage before the bed linens became completely sodden, but again, she flexed her muscles tightly around him and he heard her murmur in his ear: More.

"There is no more, sweetness," Boromir groaned between ragged breaths as he forcefully disengaged and slid her from his lap, "I must have sustenance and time to replenish my fluids. Give me the day and I'll give you the night."

"Oh my…look at the mess…these linens will need a wash now…and all this sweat…you need a bath…yesterday we used the lavender…think you will have to try the violets today…I think violets are very nice early in the morning…will you look at that…all the strength has gone out of it…you simply need to eat a lot of red meat…that will soon make it all upstanding again…and asparagus…that's very good too…replenishes the manly juices…gets it all flowing again…the dwarves have their own asparagus bed…"

"Why?" Boromir loudly and sternly interrupted her. It had intrigued him that the dwarves had no womenfolk and yet seemed uninterested in Snow White in any way other than loving uncles would be towards a beloved niece. Something just didn't seem right and he really wanted to understand his own place in the situation.

"No idea what they do with it to be honest…never seen any dwarf ladies around…they don't like human ladies much…think we're all ugly…did you know dwarves will only mate with their own kind…their own kind or nothing at all…oh my…my tummy is growling…breakfast is such a good idea…and your clothes…your clothes are all nice and clean now…"

She was off and chattering non-stop once again as she went about tidying up the bedroom. Boromir was more than happy to see her disappear from the room, leaving him to roll over for a nice recuperative nap. Thinking on what had been happening between the two of them since his arrival, he concluded that it didn't matter who it was that ended up in her bed, just that it be a vigorous man who fit the mold of a prince. The thought made his conscience settle that his departure would be less than honourable considering what had transpired. Snow White was no tart of a tavern wench. The sun was fully up and he was sorely in need of food when he woke to her calling from the bathing chamber once again.


End file.
